


Angry all the Time

by notvelma



Series: The Howard Family [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, M/M, Prison, Prison Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-15
Updated: 2012-10-15
Packaged: 2017-11-16 09:00:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/537734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notvelma/pseuds/notvelma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy Howard has anger problems, and the fact that he's in prison isn't helping matters. While his girlfriend, Tabitha, really wants him to get better, she's not sure that she can wait that long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angry all the Time

**Author's Note:**

> Main relationship is F/M but there are a couple moments of M/M (of the prison-sex variety, though Tommy is bisexual, not "prison gay")

_Monday, May 7_

"Do you want to talk about why you punched Ollie in the face and broke his nose?" Patrick looked at him expectantly, as though he thought Tommy's answer was going to provide great insight on the matter, like maybe he thought there was some grand reason for Tommy's violence. They were in a fucking prison for fuck's sake. Violence was everywhere. Nobody needed a fucking excuse. 

Tommy wanted to punch him in the face for being such an idiot. Patrick was the prison's psychologist, and Tommy was required to have these weekly sessions with the shrink. The sessions were meant so the two of them could talk about Tommy's anger and his alcoholism and the reasons he was in prison in the first place in hopes that he would eventually be "rehabilitated" and "fit to join the public" when he was finally released from prison. It was stupid, but if he didn't attend the therapy they took away his visitation rights. Seeing Tabby was the only thing he had to look forward to these days. 

He sighed heavily and slumped down in his chair, noting the way that Patrick's eyes drifted to his crotch. Tommy widened his legs a little to tease the psychologist. No way was he desperate enough to go for it, though. Tommy liked men sometimes, but there were too many reasons why it would be wrong to fool around with Patrick, the biggest reason being that Patrick was a piece of shit and Tommy didn't want his dick anywhere near that. 

With another sigh, Tommy said, "Ollie's a fucking weasel and he deserved a lot more than the broken nose I gave him." He shrugged. "Plus he was talking shit about me, okay? Ain't no goddamn way I'm gonna let him get away with that. You let somebody get away with that in this fucking place and next thing you know you're somebody's bitch. I don't play that game." Just thinking about it made his anger bubble up inside of him. He hated Ollie more than anything.

Dragging his eyes away from the view, Patrick said calmly, "What sorts of things was he saying about you, Thomas? Why did his comments bother you enough to provoke you into attacking him like that?" He tilted his head. With sandy blond hair and big brown eyes, Patrick looked like an eager little puppy, always so earnest and full of ideas. He acted like he thought working in a prison was the best thing to ever happen to him. And at only twenty three years old, he was still practically a baby. 

"I told you. The guy's a fucking little weasel." Tommy shrugged again. "Look, can I go? You know we ain't gonna get anywhere with this stupid psychology bullshit, and my girlfriend's coming for a visit today. I wanna go shower so I smell nice when she gets here." 

Patrick was starting to look a little hot under the collar himself, though whether that had to do with him imagining Tommy in the shower or because he was annoyed was hard to tell. "How do you ever expect to be properly rehabilitated if you don't let these sessions work for you?" he asked. 

"Look, Patrick," said Tommy, leaning forward. "My anger ain't the reason I'm in prison and we both know it. I'm here 'cause I was stupid and I drove drunk. And seeing as I've been sober since I've been in this fucking stupid prison, I don't think that's the problem, either," he said sharply. Sometimes Tommy really missed alcohol, but there wasn't a fucking thing he could do about it here. 

"No, but your anger, and the resulting fights with the other inmates is why you keep getting your privileges taken away," Patrick pointed out. He didn't look as scared of Tommy as he should have. The guy was tiny and Tommy could have wrung his neck without even another thought about it.

Tommy exhaled loudly, rolling his eyes. "Jesus Christ. What the fuck do you think you're going to do to me, anyway? I ain't never going to stop being angry until people stop being fucking idiots. Maybe Ollie's the one that needs to be in here, 'cause he's the one acting like a little shit all the time." Tommy started jiggling his leg restlessly. He wanted to get out of this fucking place already – this room, the prison itself... Fuck, he hated being here. He just wanted to go home and be with Tabby, like a regular guy with a regular life. Hell, he was even looking forward to having a boring nine-to-five job again. 

"This isn't about Ollie," said Patrick patiently, with a tone of voice that suggested he was talking to a young child instead of an adult man who was both bigger and older than him. "We're talking about you right now, Thomas, and we're trying to work on your anger issues." 

"I wouldn't have any fuckin anger issues if you'd stop fucking asking me stupid fucking questions," growled Tommy. He clenched his hands into fists and tried not to think about how it would feel to have those hands around Patrick's scrawny little neck. He could visualize the look on Patrick's face as it happened, too – the way his eyes would bulge and his face would turn red until he was choking. 

Licking his lips, Patrick said, "Perhaps it's time to end the session." He stood up from his chair and went to the door, opening it. "We're done here, Officer Kirkwood. You can take him back to Unit C now," he said to the correctional officer that had been waiting outside the office. 

Officer Kirkwood was a big blond former football player, but even he wasn't bigger than Tommy. Still, he held enough authority that Tommy was inclined to behave rather than risk being hit with the truncheon or a taser. "C'mon, Howard. Get your ass moving," said the CO, rolling his eyes a little like he had better places to be than here. Tommy didn't blame him for that. 

After one last glance at Patrick, Tommy got up from the chair and followed Kirkwood out of the office and back down to his cell block. He wanted to get cleaned up before he had to go meet Tabby.

*

_One hour later_

Tommy hated that there was no privacy in the visiting rooms, because the things he wanted to say to his girlfriend weren't really appropriate for an audience of other prisoners and their visitors. Still, when he approached the table at which Tabby was sitting, she stood up to greet him and he couldn't stop himself from cupping her beautiful face in his hands. He kissed her like he wouldn't get to do it again for a long time, knowing he had to make the most of the time they had together. 

When he finally ended the kiss, he allowed himself a moment to take in her features, storing it away for later when he was alone in his bunk and couldn't sleep. "Baby, you look gorgeous," he told her. 

She smiled up at him, a blush coloring her cheeks. She tucked a lock of blond hair behind her ear and said in that sweet, gentle voice, "I'm glad to see you're doing well, Thomas. Would you like to sit down?" she asked, gesturing to the table. 

God, he loved her voice and her face and her hair and the way she talked and just everything about her; Tabitha Roach was the perfect woman in his mind. She was so good to him, too. How many other girlfriends like her would stick by a guy like him when he was in jail? 

They both sat down at the round table, but Tommy dragged his chair closer to hers and took her hand in his. He needed to get as much physical contact with her as he could possibly manage; it had to last him the rest of the week until he could see her again. "I've missed you so fucking much," he said. "God, baby, I can't wait until I get out of this fucking place." He sounded like a broken record, he knew. She'd heard him say the same stupid thing over and over again, but he could never say it enough. 

She caressed his face with her free hand, and he leaned into the touch, trying to decide if he wanted to kiss her or keep looking at her. He settled for looking at her and letting her speak; he had to hold onto that for as long as he could so it could last him after their time was up and she had to leave. "How are you doing, though?" she asked. 

He shrugged. "Hank came to visit this morning," he told her. "Ain't seen the others in a while, though. Have you?" He understood they couldn't visit him as often as he would have liked, but it still sucked not being able to see the rest of his family when he wanted to. 

Tabby shook her head. "I don't know that they're interested in seeing me," she said quietly. "You know they've never liked me very much, and now that you're not there..." She trailed off. 

"That's not true," insisted Tommy. "They love you." He didn't actually know if that was true, but how could they not like her? She was his girlfriend, after all, and they'd always been accepting of each other's romantic partners. Why should Tabby be any different?

"They don't like that I'm so reserved," she told him. "I know they think that because I'm religious that I don't know how to have fun." She released him and clasped her hands together in her lap. "I don't have a problem with their drinking or how they choose to spend their time. I think they should treat me the same way," she said quietly. 

Confused, Tommy said, "Has somebody been saying shit to you? You want me to talk to them? Which one of them's been giving you shit?" Tommy loved his girlfriend and he loved his family, but fuck if he was going to put up with his brothers harassing her. Tabitha was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and if they didn't see that, then they were assholes. He clenched his fists as he felt the anger rising up inside of him, threatening to boil over. 

She looked up at him again, and for a moment he was too captivated by her face to find his thoughts. "Nobody has said anything to me," she assured him. "It's just the feeling I get whenever I talk to them. You don't see it because you're not there, but I know they don't like me." She shrugged. 

"I'm going to talk to Hank next time he drops by," said Tommy. "I'll make sure they don't say that shit to you anymore, okay?" His anger started to dissipate, if only for the way she looked at him. Tabitha was good at calming him down. 

She didn't respond to that comment, and neither of them spoke for the moment. 

Tommy didn't mind so much, because he didn't like to think about all that shit going on while he was inside. There was nothing he could do to protect her now, and one of the things he worried about almost constantly was that Tabby was all right. She was a very pretty girl and always had been for as long as he'd known her, back when they'd started dating almost six years ago. Men were always attracted to her, and Tommy remembered times when she'd gotten harassed on the street. Of course, once he'd taken care of those guys, that kind of thing stopped happening. 

He kissed her again, running his hand up her arm and curling it around the back of her neck. She felt so good in his arms, but he wished like hell that he was out of prison so they could touch each other the way he wanted them to. He wanted to be able to see her naked, touch her in all those special places. He wanted to feel alive again, and she was the only person who could give that to him. The warden wouldn't let him have conjugal visits, since he'd been fighting too much; they'd taken away his privileges in an attempt to get him to behave, but it just pissed him off even more. 

"All right, Howard, time's up," said an annoyed voice.

Tommy broke apart from Tabby to see the face of Officer Kirkwood as he stood by their table, watching the two of them. Tommy rolled his eyes. "Jesus Christ, ain't been here hardly twenty minutes," he said. "C'mon, Kirkwood," he groaned.

The officer shook his head. "Your visits got cut down 'cause of you beating up Whitcomb, remember?" he said, raising his eyebrows.

"You beat somebody up?" said Tabitha, looking at Tommy. "Why did you do that?"

Tommy brushed her cheek with his hand. "Don't worry about it, baby. I'll see you next week, okay?" he said. He gave her another kiss – a short one, this time, because Kirkwood was still standing there like a fucking pervert, like he got off on seeing that kinda thing. 

When he pulled away, he stood up from the table and allowed himself to be led away by Kirkwood. He hated when it came time to leave because it was never enough time. He probably shouldn't have beat up the fucking asshole Ollie in the first place, but the weasel had been asking for it.

"Your girlfriend keeps getting prettier," said Kirkwood. "Don't know why the fuck you'd fuck up your life enough to end up here when you got a girl like her waiting for you," he added.

Glancing over at the officer, Tommy wondered what exactly he was trying to say. "Ain't like I meant to get arrested," Tommy said. "And jeez, Kirkwood, you think I don't hear that shit enough anyway? My baby brother's a cop, or didn't you know?"

"Yeah, I know that. But fuck, you got a girl like that who clearly loves you and cares about you enough to come here near every week just to visit you, and you keep fucking everything up. Do you really think they're gonna grant you parole when your time comes?" Kirkwood asked. "Seems like something ain't right if you ask me." He shook his head.

"Well it ain't any of your fucking business anyway," growled Tommy. He didn't want to have this conversation with this guy in the first place. What business was it of Kirkwood's what Tommy's life was like? The only thing the officer had to do was escort him around and make sure the inmates weren't causing too much trouble.

Kirkwood shrugged. "Just saying."

"Yeah, well maybe keep your fucking mouth shut, huh?" Tommy sighed. He hated this place and he hated everybody here. He couldn't fucking wait to go home.

*

_Sunday, May 13_

Though Tabitha certainly liked her weekday job as a hairdresser at a busy salon, she found that her work as a Sunday school teacher was much more rewarding. Part of it, she felt, was her involvement in the church and how it affected her; Tabitha's faith had been a part of her life for a long time and this helped her feel like she could give back. She also really enjoyed working with children more than anything else.

She'd wanted to be a teacher for a very long time, but after graduating high school with straight C's, she knew she wasn't smart enough for college. When she'd talk to her parents about it, they had confirmed that they didn't think it was really the place for her. She'd followed her other passion and gone to beauty school instead, finding something she enjoyed doing and at which she did very well. 

As Tabitha waited for her Sunday school students to finish filling out the worksheet she'd given them, she thought to herself about the direction in which her life was going. She would be thirty next year and was not yet married, with a jailed boyfriend who had serious anger issues. Though his anger was never directed at her, thank God, it was still a problem for him and their relationship. She couldn't imagine having children with Tommy until he could control his temper.

"Miss Tabitha?" the small voice drew her out of her thoughts, and she realized that Lila was raising her hand somewhat urgently, practically jumping out of her seat to get her teacher's attention. "Miss Tabitha!" she said, a little louder this time. "I really have to go pee." 

"If you're asking me to go to the bathroom, Lila, the answer is yes," said Tabitha. "Don't dawdle, though, because it's almost time for our closing prayer." 

Having been granted permission, Lila was out of her seat in flash, dashing out of the classroom as quickly as she could go, pigtails bobbing. 

Turning back to the rest of her students, Tabitha said, "Why don't you all pass up your worksheets so we can clean up. I'm going to set the timer and we have two minutes to clean up before we do our closing prayer, okay?" She'd found that having a timer made the children faster to clean, because they loved trying to beat the clock. Today was no different, and she watched as the five and six year olds scrambled to pick up their messes before the buzzer went off.

All the children – even Lila, who had returned from the bathroom during clean-up – were back in their seats when the timer went off.

"You all did a good job!" said Tabitha, smiling at them. "Now let's all bow our heads to pray." 

As they finished up their prayer with a hearty "amen!" from the kids, some of the parents had gathered to wait at the door to the classroom, entering only when Tabitha allowed the kids to get up from the table. Tabitha stayed at the front of the room as the parents came to pick them up, watching to make sure that everything was going smoothly. If any parents had questions, they could come up to ask her. 

When nearly everyone had gone, Mrs. McBride approached her with Lila in tow. Donna McBride was Lila's grandmother, and one of the people at the church with whom Tabitha had formed a connection. Now, as the woman approached, she had a look of motherly concern on her face. "How are you doing, Tabitha?" she asked. "Are you okay?"

Normally, Tabitha would have given her stock answer of "I'm doing great, thanks" with a big smile, but she knew that answer wouldn't satisfy Donna. She glanced around to make sure the rest of the parents had left before she said quietly, "Tommy's been fighting again. I'm so afraid that he's going to keep messing up like this, and that he'll never make parole. What if he stays in there forever?" That was her biggest fear, that Tommy would never leave and she'd be without him forever. 

Donna put her hand on Tabitha's shoulder. "Oh, I certainly understand your concerns, dear. I worry for that boy, too, and every night I pray for him," she said softly. Her touch was warm and comforting, like the mother Tabitha had never really had. "I think you should talk to his family, too. If they love him as much as you do, I know they'll want him to get better, too. I'm sure Thomas needs all the support he can get, and from everyone in his life that cares about him," said Donna. She gave Tabitha a reassuring, motherly smile.

"You're probably right," said Tabitha, though she really had no intention of talking to any member of Tommy's family if she could help it. While she knew it was wrong to blame them for what Tommy had done, she still knew in her heart that they had been part of the problem. They'd encouraged the drinking, ignoring their brother's descent into addiction. And where were they now? 

After the conversation with Donna was over and the woman left with her granddaughter, Tabitha went home. She had visiting hours with Tommy tomorrow and she had some praying to do before then. She ignored the thought in the back of her mind that told her how much easier it would be if she didn't have Tommy to worry about anymore. She wouldn't even entertain that idea for one second. She couldn't.

*

_Thursday, May 17_

All of Unit C had been in lock down for almost a week because that weasel Ollie had shanked Officer Kirkwood. Luckily or not, the CO hadn't died, but he'd lost a lot of blood and most definitely would not be back to work anytime soon. Ollie Whitcomb had been moved to Solitary for the time being, and in Tommy's opinion that was right where he belonged. 

Even though Ollie was being properly punished for being an asshole, though McGowan still thought the whole fucking unit had to suffer, hence the lock down. It was nobody's idea of a good time, though, and Tommy was getting sick and fucking tired of being caged up with his cell mate.

Barrett McLaughlin was doing time for drug possession, but he was the sorriest motherfucker Tommy had met. Kids like him didn't belong in prison. All he ever did was talk about how sorry he was for fucking up, how he'd never touch drugs ever again and blah blah blah, nobody cared. It was fucking annoying as hell. 

Since lock down had started, Barrett kept trying to start a conversation with Tommy like they were friends. He kept asking about Tommy's family or Tommy's girlfriend or Tommy's favorite books or Tommy's favorite shows or what kind of work outs he did in the gym. The poor guy was probably just lonely, but that didn't make Tommy any less annoyed about it.

Barrett wasn't the worst cell mate, though. Even though he was only twenty-three, Barrett was a fairly big guy, though he was nowhere near Tommy's size. He was handsome, too – almost unnecessarily handsome, with dark skin, dark hair, and bright green eyes. He just had one of those faces that was hard to look away from; everything about him was so well designed that it was hard to believe he was real. Tommy had been tempted by him before, but he'd never given in to that temptation with anybody else so why should Barrett be the exception just 'cause he was nice to look at? Tommy wasn't that easy. 

Right now, Barrett was leaning up against the wall of their cell, arms crossed over his chest as he looked at Tommy. "You ever think about what you're going to do when you're done serving your time and you get out of here?" he asked casually.

Tommy snorted. "What's the matter, you run out of actually interesting questions to ask or something?" he said, rolling his eyes. Though he didn't really want to answer, he figured if he didn't, Barrett would keep asking until he found something interesting. "Yeah, I know exactly what I'm gonna do when I get released." He reclined back on his bed so he wouldn't have to stare at Barrett's stupid face any longer. Before Barrett could ask him to elaborate, Tommy said, "First thing I'm gonna do is marry Tabby, if she ain't left me yet. Then I'm gonna see if I can get my old job back. After that's all settled and everything, me and Tabby are gonna buy a house and start having kids. Think I want three or four." He smiled a little, picturing three little blond girls, like miniature versions of Tabby. Maybe there would be a boy in there – a big brother to protect his little sisters. 

"Jesus Christ, Tommy. Didn't know you were such a big family man. You always this sappy or is the lock down going to your head?" Barrett teased, grinning broadly. 

"Fuck you, asshole," growled Tommy. "You asked and I answered. You got a fucking problem with that now, huh?" Tommy sat up again, ready to kick Barrett's ass if he had to. He didn't need to deal with this bullshit right now. 

Barrett put his hands up defensively. "Calm down, Tommy, for fuck's sake. I was just teasing," he said gently. "I think it's great you get something to look forward to. Me, I've been here eight months and nobody's come to visit me that whole time. Pathetic, huh?" He shook his head, suddenly looking like a sad little boy instead of a full grown man. "My dad's dead and my mom's ashamed of me."

"No brothers or sisters? You don't have a girlfriend or anything?" Tommy couldn't imagine growing up an only child. Sure, it had been a pain in the ass when eight year old Hank had started following him around, trying to copy everything he did, or when Jen had been a curious toddler and had snapped his favorite Led Zeppelin CD in half, or having to get up early just to be sure to get a chance at hot water in the shower. But Tommy would never trade his siblings for anything in the world. If he said that out loud, though, he knew Barrett would think he was really sappy.

Shrugging, Barrett said, "Only family that still talks to me is my cousin, but he's like ten years older than me and he won't come visit. And no, I don't have a girlfriend," he added, but with a tone of voice that might have suggested he wanted to say something else. He didn't, though.

From there, the conversation died, but Tommy didn't mind. He was sick of talking anyway, especially because there was no privacy here. They could talk amongst themselves, but the assholes in the next cell would be listening, too. Of course, in Tommy's mind, it wasn't that much different from living at home as a teenager. Only difference was that these assholes were a little cruder than his brothers and sisters had been. Uglier, too. He fell back on his bunk again and closed his eyes. 

A couple minutes of blissful near-silence passed before –

"Tommy?" Barrett's voice was low and soft and _right in Tommy's fucking ear_. How had he gotten that close without Tommy noticing? "Can I ask you something?" 

His eyes flew open to see Barrett crouching by his bunk, bright green eyes fixed on him. "Jesus Christ, man. What the fuck do you want?" he grumbled, sitting up again. This was really starting to get on his fucking nerves. When was this stupid guy going to get sick of hearing his own voice and just shut up?

Before Barrett could say anything else, McGowan called for lights out, and their whole unit went completely black all at once. For a moment, Tommy wondered if maybe his cell mate had finally decided to close his big mouth and go to bed or something, but then he felt a hand on his arm. 

"Please don't kill me," whispered Barrett, voice still close to his ear. "I don't usually do this, okay, but I just miss being touched, you know?" Even in a whisper, he sounded so vulnerable, so scared. "I won't tell anybody. Please, Tommy. You're the only one I trust here anyway." Barrett's other hand flattened on Tommy's chest, over his heart. When he spread his fingers out, Tommy was surprised at how big his hand really was. 

It wasn't hard to guess what Barrett was trying to say – he was about as subtle as a brick to the head – but Tommy didn't think it was such a good idea. He didn't want Barrett to think that he could just bat his eyes and play the sad little boy act and get into Tommy's pants. Even before he'd gotten into prison, Tommy had never been one to give in to a pretty face; he wanted more than that if he was going to be taking his clothes off for somebody. 

Barrett must have taken his silence as agreement, though, because suddenly the bunk was dipping under his weight as he crawled in next to Tommy. His big, broad hand was on Tommy's crotch and his mouth – oh fuck, his mouth was on Tommy's and he was kissing all sweet and gentle and romantic, like they were on a date instead of in a prison cell. Tommy was willing to bet that Barrett didn't know any other kind of kissing, but he couldn't really complain because it felt real good, especially with Barrett's hands all over him, the other man pressing up close. 

He knew he should have pushed Barrett away, should have stopped it before it went too far, but it felt too good. Though he'd never say it out loud, Tommy missed being touched, too, and Barrett was real good with his hands. Besides, he told himself as Barrett began to undress him, those big hands working on the buckle of his pants, nobody would ever have to know about this.

*

_Monday, May 21_

With her hands clasped in front of her, Tabitha waited patiently for the guard to bring Tommy out. Her heart was pounding so loudly in her chest that she could hear nothing else, so worried was she about the talk that they were going to have today. She'd tried to visit last week, but the whole prison had been in lock down and they weren't allowing any visitors; because of that, she'd spent much of the previous week praying, asking God to help her find the words to tell Tommy what she needed to say. If they wanted their relationship to continue to work, Tommy had to make an effort to get better. 

Hearing the door open, she looked up to see the guard brought him in. Tabitha was surprised to find that what she felt upon looking into Tommy's face for the first time in two weeks was not the usual feeling of love and affection, but instead she just felt angry. It was a shock to her because she'd never felt that way toward him before – not like this, not so intensely angry with no real reason. She swallowed and stood up to hug him, trying to push the anger away for later; she didn't have time now to think about what it meant. She needed to remain calm if she wanted to say what was on her mind.

They both sat down again, but for a long moment, neither of them spoke. Tommy didn't even try to touch her, which of course she found strange. Did he know why she was here, or was there something else on his mind? She was afraid to ask, so instead she said, "How have you been? The prison was in lock down when I tried to visit last week. Do you know what that was all about? Did something happen?" She hoped he hadn't been involved. 

He shrugged. "One of the guards got shanked. The guy who did it is in Solitary at least, but they punish all of us for one asshole's stupid idea. Fucking ridiculous, if you ask me," he grumbled. He ran his hand through his hair, sighing. "I'm doing all right, though. Therapy is still bullshit, but I gotta do it if I want to have visitors." He shrugged. 

Tabitha took a deep breath. He'd just given her an opening and she was going to take it. "Do you think you're going to make parole when it comes up, Tommy?" she asked, trying to keep her voice calm. "Do you think you've been rehabilitated at all since you've been in here? Can you honestly say that your anger has gotten any better?" 

At once, his sharp gaze was fixed on her. "The fuck is that supposed to mean?" he growled, and she could see the tendrils of anger as they curled around his heart. She'd seen him react like this before – it wasn't a quick temper, but a slow burn. The fire would start small, but eventually he'd get angry enough to explode. "You don't think they're going to grant me parole?" 

"Please calm down," she said softly, reaching for him. "I just think there's a reason they want you to see the psychologist, and if you continue to dismiss the help, you won't get any better. When you do come up for parole, do you really think they'd grant it to you if you've been fighting with everybody?" She tried to stop herself from trembling nervously. 

Tommy exhaled loudly, pulling his hand away from hers. His chair scraped loudly on the floor as he pulled back, furthering the distance between the two of them. "If you don't think I'm getting out soon, then why the fucking hell do you keep coming here? Do you think you're going to heal me with prayer or some shit?" he said sharply, causing several other visitors to look over at them. "Mind your own fucking business!" he snapped angrily at them. 

At that outburst, one of the guards approached their table, hand on his belt. "You're on real thin ice already, Howard. You want to watch it with the yelling?" He looked at Tabitha with concern. "Miss, you doin' okay?" When she nodded, the guard gave Tommy another look and then walked back to where he'd been standing. He continued to watch them from a distance, as though he expected Tommy to attack her. But he wouldn't do that, right?

Arms crossed over his chest, Tommy glared at her but did not say anything. He was pouting like a chastised toddler, and Tabitha could not help seeing how childlike he was. Until she spotted –

"What's that on your neck?" she asked, but as soon as the words left her mouth, she knew the answer to her question. She'd given him plenty of those in the early stages of their relationship; Tabitha wasn't too stupid to recognize a hickey when she saw one. "Where did you get that?" she demanded. He'd promised to her that he wouldn't touch anybody else, that he would stay faithful to her no matter what. She'd held him to that promise, but it looked like she couldn't even believe in that anymore.

He had the decency to look guilty, though she knew there was still anger bubbling just below the surface; his rage was always there. "It's not like that," he said. "You got any idea how hard it is for me in here? A man's got needs, Tabitha," he insisted.

_Please, God, help me stay calm_ , she prayed, trying to will away the urge to smack him. "You have needs?" she said. "And you think that those manly urges outweigh the promise of commitment you made to me?" Oh, she was angry enough to scream and was having trouble holding herself back. 

"Fuck's sake, Tabitha. I've been in here for the last eight months with no conjugal visits! I can't wait that long!" he exclaimed, again loud enough to draw the attention of the others in the room. "It was one fucking time and it's not like it counts as cheating when I'm in prison." 

She snapped. "Don't you pull that bullshit with me, Thomas Michael Howard!" she exclaimed, standing up from her chair. "It's not my fault you got your conjugal visits revoked! And you know perfectly well that if you fucked somebody else, that's cheating. You don't get a free pass just because you were stupid enough to get arrested! I was faithful to you! I haven't had sex that long either, and I have just as many urges as you do!" Her face felt hot and her chest was heaving. Even after all that, she still wanted to smack him, just to see the expression on his face. 

A hand on her shoulder distracted her attention from Thomas for a moment, and she turned to see the guard again. 

"Miss," he said calmly. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave. You're disrupting the rest of the visitors. I'll escort you out, if you don't mind." Then he turned to one of the other guards who had approached them as well, hand on his utility belt. "Can you please take Thomas back to his unit, Brett?" As the other guard led Tommy out, Tabitha walked out with the first guard. She tried to hold back the tears that she knew were coming. What had gone wrong?

*

During the whole walk back to Unit C with Officer Blake, Tommy went over the argument he'd had with Tabitha, how she'd told him that he wasn't getting any better, that he'd be here forever like a fucking loser, and oh by the way, fucking your cell mate _one fucking time_ counts as cheating. So he knew he'd maybe screwed up a little by letting Barrett get to him like that, but Jesus Christ, Tabitha didn't have to make such a big fucking deal out of it.

"Calm down, Howard," said Officer Blake. "I'm sure your girlfriend will be fine. She just needs some time to think." 

He wanted to punch the CO in the face until his nose broke, and then he wanted to choke him until his face turned blue and his eyes bulged out and then –

Tommy took a deep breath, trying to focus his rage. Tabby had never talked to him like that before and he had the sinking feeling that she wouldn't be back. Why the hell would she be? There was nothing here for her anymore. She was probably going home right now and throwing out all his stuff. Then she'd probably go out and find some guy to fuck out of spite for what he'd done. That's what he would have done if he was in her place. 

When they arrived back at Unit C, Officer Blake told McGowan what had happened in the visiting room, leaving the unit manager to decide to take away Tommy's gym privileges for the rest of the week. Officer Blake gave him a smug grin as he left, and Tommy clenched his hands into fists. 

Barrett was gone from their cell – probably using the gym or out in the yard – so Tommy went to his cell and sat on his bunk. He would've liked to go to the gym and work out his rage with the punching bag, but fucking McGowan had just been looking for a reason to piss Tommy off. At least he wasn't putting Tommy in Solitary or anything.

Really, if anybody was at fault for this whole situation, it was Barrett. He had been the one to seduce Tommy like that, with his sad eyes and his hands and his stupid fucking mouth – the mouth that had given Tommy the hickey that Tabitha threw a fit over. If that hadn't happened, she would have had no idea that Tommy had fucked his cell mate, and he could've gone on with his life the way he always had. 

It was Barrett's fault, and Barrett was going to pay for it – oh, yes he would pay and Tommy didn't care if it would fuck up chances for parole, because Barrett deserved what was coming to him. Tommy wanted nothing more than to damage that pretty face, so Barrett would learn his lesson the hard way – that he didn't fuck with Thomas Howard. Oh, yes.

"Hey Tommy," said Barrett pleasantly as he entered the cell in blissful ignorance, sweaty and flushed from his work out in the gym. "How did your visit with your girlfriend go?" he asked, stripping off his t-shirt and tossing it on his bunk. He picked up a clean shirt to put on and washed his hands at the sink, still clueless about his cell mate's simmering rage.

Tommy stood up slowly, anger flowing through his body and heating him up to a boiling point. When he got this angry, Tommy always felt like he'd been stuffed into a tiny box and that when somebody opened the box to set him set him off , he'd explode. His skin felt too tight, his head throbbed and his hands trembled with the urge to break something, like Barrett's neck.

He caught Barrett by surprise with a punch to the face as the other man turned around. The crunch of his nose breaking was a satisfying noise. Tommy pulled back for another punch, but Barrett caught him by the wrist and used the momentum to throw Tommy off balance, knocking him to the ground. Barrett pinned him to the floor for only a moment before Tommy regained dominance. 

Aware of nothing but his blind rage, Tommy grabbed Barrett's head in his hands prepared to bash it against the floor. He just wanted to kill the guy for everything he'd caused. But before he could finish that action, the rage gave way to something else and Tommy found himself bending his head down to mash his mouth against Barrett's in a rough, bloody kiss. The kiss was just another translation of Tommy's pent up rage – just as violent and forceful as the initial punch had been. 

Despite that, Barrett didn't resist, instead grabbing Tommy's shoulders and arching his body up to continue the contact. He didn't just kiss with his mouth – no, Barrett put his whole body into it, the way he pressed up against Tommy, his fingers digging sharply into Tommy's back. 

There were catcalls and voices of the other inmates, but Tommy had grown used to ignoring those sounds and so they barely affected him – at least until the sound of the guard's voice cut through everything else. 

"Howard! McLaughlin! What the fuck are you two doing?" 

Before he could properly react, Tommy was being pulled up by two sets of hands – one grabbing his left arm and the other grabbing his right. They hauled him off Barrett, trying to hold him back from the smaller man. Tommy's instinctual reaction was to wrench his right arm out of the one guard's grip and punched the other guard in the face. 

Just as Tommy reared his arm back to try for another punch, the first guard grabbed it again, wrenching it painfully behind his back. Tommy growled at the pain and tried to pull away, but both guards were gripping him pretty hard. 

"You better fucking watch what you're doing, Howard," said the guard sharply. 

"Take him to solitary," said McGowan, watching them with his arms crossed over his chest.

As the guards dragged him away, Tommy looked back at Barrett, but the other guy was sitting on the floor with a bloody nose and bloody mouth, looking dazed and confused. 

For a brief moment, Tommy wondered what the fuck he'd gotten himself into. He knew he owed Barrett an apology, but what the hell could he say to the guy that would make things right? He hadn't been thinking properly, thanks to the fucking fight with Tabitha and everything else that was going on. 

"We're going to call your brother about this," said the guard on Tommy's right. "Your brother, the cop? Bet he's gonna be real pleased to hear about his incarcerated brother fucking up yet again. Won't be surprised if he disowns you or some shit. I know if you was my family, I'd do the same." 

Tommy didn't say anything. He didn't have anything worth saying to that anyway.

*

_Monday, June 4_

Tommy had stopped being afraid of his older brother when he'd turned sixteen and was bigger than him. Nick had topped out at only six foot four, but Tommy had gotten all the way to six foot six - and of course he'd always been more muscular than Nick. But now, even with the knowledge that he was bigger and stronger than his older brother, Tommy was nearly cowering as Nick stared at him from across the visitors' table. He looked so much like Dad that Tommy had to fight the urge to say "Yes sir!" 

"What the hell is wrong with you?" asked Nick, and fuck if he didn't sound just like Dad, too. Even Hank, who sat on Nick's left side as his backup for this lecture, looked startled at Nick's tone. "Jesus Christ, Tommy, I never thought you were that fucking stupid, but apparently I've been overestimating your intelligence. Is that it?" He shook his head and gave a very disappointed sigh. 

"You mind clarifying which part you're sore about?" said Tommy, even though he knew it was the wrong time to try to be a smart ass. "Is it the part about me fucking my cell mate, or the part about me and Tabby fighting and then breaking up, or the part where I broke my cell mate's nose and punched one of the guards?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. He reclined a bit in the chair, trying to spread his body out to look bigger; he was used to hiding his fear with bravado, something he'd learned very young. 

Hank's eyes got wide. "You fucked your cell mate?" he said incredulous. "Wow." He ran his hand through his hair and got that look in his eyes that Tommy remembered from when they were young. It was a mixture of awe and hero worship – neither of which Tommy really deserved. 

Sighing, Tommy said, "It's not a big deal, Hank. He came on to me and I didn't say no 'cause I was horny and he was cute, and I'm fucking sick to hell of being celibate. You try going as long as I did without any sex, with nobody touching you or any fucking thing!" 

"I don't care about that part," interjected Nick. "It's not my business who you sleep with, but I am really fucking pissed off that you continue to go around throwing tantrums and letting your anger get the best of you. This isn't high school anymore, Tommy, and you're not being sent to detention after school. This is prison, do you understand that?" He inhaled loudly, keeping his eyes fixed on Tommy.

"I get it," snapped Tommy.

"I don't think you do," said Nick sharply. "You keep acting like a fucking child. You're an adult, Tommy, and you need to start fucking acting like one." 

He had to flatten his hands on his knees to prevent himself from clocking Nick in the face like he wanted to. "What do you care about what I do in here anyway?" Tommy growled. "You're not Dad, no matter how hard you try to be. It's easier for everybody else if I stay in here, anyway. I belong here."

"Oh, don't even start with that bullshit," said Nick. "You don't belong here and we all know it. You're a good guy who just fucked up, but that doesn't mean you have to keep fucking up everything. You're better than that." He was using his teacher voice, which Tommy hated almost more than when he used his "dad" voice. 

He knew, though, that Nick was sort of right. Tommy was screwing everything up when he didn't have to. If he could fix himself, he could probably get out of this place before he turned thirty-five, but how the fuck was he going to fix everything that was wrong with him before then? 

"Am I, though?" he asked. "Do you really think I'm a good person? Tabitha clearly thinks I'm beyond saving." He shrugged, thinking about how she'd looked when she'd been escorted out by the guard. His heart ached for her, to touch her again. He'd really fucked that up, hadn't he?

When he looked up again, Hank and Nick were both watching him wordlessly. 

He noticed that Hank had the good sense not to come in uniform. Tommy loved his younger brother, but he hated that fucking uniform, hated the idea that the little brother that had so idolized him had gone into law enforcement while Tommy was on the other side of the law. It hurt. He felt like he'd let his brother down, turned into something different and wrong. 

Nick slapped his hand on the table, startling both of his brothers. "Jesus Christ, Tommy, just tell me whether you're committed to trying to get better or not. Because if you're going to keep fucking up and beating up your cell mates and guards and shit, then I don't even want to bother coming here anymore. I don't give a damn if you're family or not - it's not worth my time to come here and listen to you go on about how you don't even give a shit about your own life." 

His hands tightened on his knees, and Tommy closed his eyes for a minute, trying to breathe. "I don't know what the hell you expect me to do. I don't even go up for parole for three more years anyway. I'm pretty sure I'm not gonna get it anyway." He shrugged. He'd certainly done enough violence that they were gonna take one look at his record and say no fucking way.

Reaching across the table, Hank put his hand on Tommy's arm. "You're still seeing that psychologist, aren't you?" he asked. "I think you should try to see if he can help with the anger. Because you're worse than Jen; if your anger is getting bad enough that you're just beating people up all the time, you need help. Maybe you can get on medication or something," he suggested. 

Now Tommy wanted to punch Hank in the face. "I don't need any fucking pills," he growled. He didn't want to turn into a fucking zombie with no feelings. 

"You need something, though," said Nick. "Are you going to work with us or not? I don't want you to be in here forever. Family dinners aren't the same when half the family is missing. You're family, too, and we want you to be there." There was his "dad" face again.

Sighing heavily, Tommy said, "I know I fucked up, okay? And I want to get out, too. I just don't know how to fix all the shit I did. I don't know how to fix me." 

Nick reached across the table and put his hand on Tommy's other arm, the three of them sitting there like some kind of fucking prayer circle. "It's going to be a long road, but as long as you're committed to working on this, it will be all right. Are you going to keep seeing the psychologist?" 

Tommy rolled his eyes. "Yeah, if I have to, I guess." 

His brother seemed to like that answer, judging by the little smile that came with his nod. "I'm going to try to check back with you more often, too, okay?" Nick said. "Do you think that will help? I just want you to get better, Tommy. We all want you to get better." The look on his face was one of – worry, or something, like he was actually afraid of what would happen to Tommy.

Blinking, Tommy pulled his hands into his lap and looked down at them, trying to fight off the tears that were coming. Jesus Christ, he was a full grown man; he didn't need to cry about this shit. "I know I fucked everything up. I messed up my life, but I didn't mean to fuck up yours, too. I promise I'll try, though. I wanna get better."

When he looked up, he met his brother's gaze, surprised to find that Nick actually looked proud of him. Did he really deserve that? 

Though he knew it would be hard making those changes, having his brothers at his back made Tommy think that maybe he could do this. Maybe things would get better.

*

_Two hours later_

"Hey, asshole, you wanna hurry the fuck up?" growled Tommy. All he wanted to do was use the phone, but that stupid fucker MacBride was taking forever, talking dirty to his wife or some shit. Like he didn't already get to fuck her twice a month during conjugal visits or whatever. 

MacBride turned to glare at him, but then he seemed to realize who he was looking at. After that, he finished his phone call up _real_ quick, scurrying past Tommy, probably going to hide in his cell. Wuss.

When Tommy got the phone, he dialed up Tabby's phone number and held his breath as it rang. Once, twice, three times. The answering machine picked up, and Tommy let out his breath in a whoosh. After listening to the recorded greeting, Tommy waited for the 'beep' and then said, "Tabby, babe, it's me, Tommy. I thought you'd be home, but I guess not. Look, I'm sorry for everything. For yelling and for the other shit I did. I miss you, honey. Please, I promise I'll do better. I'm really gonna try this time, I swear." He sighed. "I love you, baby, and I'm so fucking sorry. Please come." He hung up before he started pleading with her too much. 

In the end, he really couldn't blame her if she never came to see him again, but he could hope that she'd find enough love inside of her heart to forgive him. He would wait, and he would hope.


End file.
